Saturdays Are Evil Days
by YerAWitchMiss
Summary: Harry Potter hates Mondays, but loved Saturdays. Until one fateful Saturday, when a curse flipped the script and transformed his life into a man's worst nightmare. Now, Harry lives his days in fear, knowing that on the last day of the week, a new problem will arise, each weekend more disastrous than the last.


**Chapter 1: Where in the World is Harry Freakin' Potter?**

It was a typical, sunny late Saturday afternoon in the Gryffindor common room.

Fred and George Weasley were in the corner, scheming away with their friend, Lee Jordan, certainly up to no good. Whispers of "banana cream" and "staircase" could be heard from their conversation.

Seamus Finnigan was attempting to transfigure an apple into an apple pie. His efforts were rewarded with a spectacular blast from his wand, igniting himself and everything in a three foot radius on fire.

Neville Longbottom was searching for his toad, Trevor for the nineteenth time today.

And a certain Ginny Weasley was cursing the spit out of a poor soul that was daft enough to refer to her by her full name.

Overall, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Nothing, except a particular wizarding duo in the corner, speaking in soft, hurried tones suggesting that something was terribly _out_ of the ordinary.

That "something" was that a certain boy with messy black hair and a lighting bolt scar hadn't been seen all day.

"He wasn't at breakfast, he wasn't at lunch-," Hermione Granger, the local know-it-all, started worriedly, before she was interrupted by her redheaded friend.

"Forget all that!" Ronald Weasley snapped. "He missed Quidditch practice! He _never_ misses a practice. Especially when the Slytherin v. Gryffindor match is on Tuesday!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend's missorted priorities, but she realized he had a point. Harry really _never_ missed Quidditch practice. He always skipped out on meals, sleeping, and arraigned studying sessions (Hermione remembered that _quite_ irritatedly) just to make it on time.

But there weren't any study sessions today. Something must be keeping him with his hands full. And knowing Harry's luck, that "thing" most likely wasn't friendly.

Dread filled Hermione's stomach, as disturbing images of Harry's misfortune played out in her mind, each more horrible than the last.

"Ron, what if something terrible happened to him?" Hermione began anxiously, fidgeting in her chair. Her speech began to sound more panicked as she spoke.

"I mean he went through so much last year, and he just lost his godfather! What if Malfoy did something to him? What if he's gotten Spattergroit and is covered in purple pustules? What is Voldemort has come back and is-"

"Woah, Woah, Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron yelled over Hermione's panicked tones, waving placating hands in front of him. His voice softened. "You're over-reacting! I'm sure Harry's fine. He's a pretty tough bloke. He'll show up eventually. "

Hermione ended her brief panic attack at Ron's words. He was right, after all. Harry was pretty tough. Harry had held his own in many situations. His battle with Quirrelmort, defeating a fifty-foot basilisk, fighting off a hundred dementors with a single Patronus, and even fighting off Voldemort himself.

But Hermione was still worried about her glasses wearing friend. She didn't think she could wait any longer for Harry to show his face.

Hermione bit her lip in thought, before her face lit up with the promise of a plan.

"Maybe we could take the Marauders Map from Harry's trunk and look at it? Just to see where he is." Hermione suggested, worriedly.

Ron raised an eyebrow and gave Hermione an amused expression. "Miss. Hermione Jean Granger, did you just suggest that we steal from our best friend and betray his trust without his knowledge or consent?"

Hermione felt her face grow hot and she knew that she was blushing.

"It's for a good reason!" she proclaimed, defensively.

Ron just laughed and shook his head, shoulders shaking with mirth. "I'm messin' with you, 'Mione. I was just about to suggest the same thing."

Ron stood from his seat on the couch and started walking towards the direction of the boys' dormitories.

Hermione overcame her initial embarrassment, and followed Ron up the stairs to the dormitory that Harry slept in.

Hermione opened the door to the dormitory a crack and peeked into the room. Empty.

"All clear," she stated, opening the door all the way and walking her way into the room. Ron followed soon afterwards. Hermione located the bed that belonged to Harry from her many previous visits to the dorms in her spare time. She opened the trunk that was against the bed's frame and began to carefully rummage through the Boy Who Lived's trunk. Ron kneeled beside her and assisted in her search.

"Not that he could have made it any harder," Hermione mused, as she looked through the trunk. Hermione needed to talk to Harry about being more organized. His trunk was a pigsty! Honestly, it's like he was raised in a cupboard under the stairs!

"Found it!" Ron called out, much too loudly, as he triumphantly held an old, yellowing parchment over his head in success.

"Ronald, quiet down!" Hermione hissed, abruptly snatching the parchment from Ron's hands and unravelling it. "It's like you're trying to alert the entire the castle what we're doing!"

"Oh quiet you," Ron said, rolling his eyes. He held out his wand and muttered the phrase that would get what we were looking for over the old parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." And technically they weren't. Harry hadn't given them permission to use his map and that must have counted for something, right?

Hermione was brought out of her ponderings, as the old parchment transformed into the tool that would help them find Harry. The Marauders Map.

This map showed a detailed diagram of their school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, complete with secret passageways and passwords. Hermione, Ron, and Harry often used these secrets to work their way around Hogwarts.

But the map had another function. It would display any student or professors' position around the school. Including Harry Potter. Who was going to get quite the tongue-lashing from his bushy-haired friend when she-

"Umm...Hermione?" Ron said turning to Hermione, his eyebrows raised in inquiry. He had a bemused expression on his face, as he pointed to a certain location on the map. "What is Harry doing in the girl's loo?"

Hermione blinked. The girl's loo?

Hermione followed Ron finger to the location he was pointing to. Yes, Hermione recognized the layout of the room. It was Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the same bathroom that the Golden Trio had used to brew a Polyjuice Potion to attempt to infiltrate the Slytherin common room in their second year. But would Harry be doing in there? _All_ _day long_?

Hermione thought about that for a moment, before saying "Mischief Managed", transforming the Marauders Map back into an old parchment and putting it back in Harry's trunk.

She stood up, and turned to Ron with a determined look on her face.

"Well there's only one way to find out," she reasoned, her tone warning that this was not up for discussion.

She grabbed Ron's hand and lead/dragged Ron out of the Gryffindor common room and out into the hallway towards the girl's bathroom on the first floor.

Ron sighed, knowing that this was going to be one of those days.

* * *

 **Earlier that morning…**

Harry Potter was _not_ having a good day.

His oh so _wonderful_ morning began with waking up to find a small fuzzy creature sleeping beside him. That wouldn't have been so bad, if the creature hadn't opened its mouth, and let out a tiny burp, promptly setting his bed on fire.

After the creature spawned wings and flew out the window, Harry had to trudge his exhausted self out of the Common Room and travel to the Hospital Wing for third-degree burns.

Before he reached the Wing, however, a painting that had been previously snoozing on the wall had woken up suddenly and shouted a particularly loud Bulgarian war cry. At the time, Harry had been half-asleep, and making his way down a staircase and was not used to hearing Bulgarian war cries at 3 o'clock in the morning. Needless to say, the tumble that followed afterwards was not his idea of fun.

It wasn't any better that some idiot had left a banana cream pie at the bottom of the staircase.

So, Harry had to make a detour from the Hospital Wing, to the boy's bathroom to wash bananas and cream off his face. However, Harry had been so blinded by delicious pie goodness that he neglected to look at the nameplates on the doors of the bathroom he entered. It was evident he was in the wrong one, when a very pissed off Hufflepuff girl began to fling anything and everything she had on her person at him.

Including, a bottle of shampoo, that combined wonderfully with his third-degree burns.

At this point, Harry had to just wipe the remnants of pie off of his face, and continue to the Hospital Wing, burns and all.

When he got to the Hospital Wing, the gap under the door was pitch-black. When he knocked at the door, there was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

Harry was about to lift his fist, to knock a third time, but the hand stopped in mid-air. The hand unraveled from its fist and promptly began to slap Harry's forehead. He had completely forgotten the announcement Dumbledore had given to the school yesterday:

" _Madame Pomfrey has been given a brief vacation period after having to settle an argument over which pasta is most attractive, in order to preserve her sanity. In the meantime, all injured students will report to Professor Snape's office to receive all medical assistance, for the time being."_

Forget the shampoo, forget the burns, forget the suspicious banana cream pie. Harry was not going to Snape's office this early in the morning. He actually enjoyed being alive, as surprising as that was.

So, Harry gathered himself up, and started for the Kitchens. Perhaps, Dobby would have some home remedies to treat his wounds. Anything was better than going to a grumpy, sleep-deprived Snape for help.

Harry began to imagine a Severus Snape in hair-curlers and bunny slippers standing in the doorway glaring at him, when he went to answer the door.

This thought was so very intriguing, that Harry failed to notice a shadowy figure sneak up behind him, lift their wand, and cast the spell would complete Harry's oh so wonderful morning.

" _Mycobacterium Recensere!"_

Harry Potter was not having a good day. But little did he know, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

* * *

A/N: This is first chapter of the first fanfiction of the very first writing on any online platform that I have posted EVER!

And, it's pretty exciting! I've just starting out writing Harry Potter fanfictions and I'm very curious to know what you guys out the interwebs think about it.

Good? Bad? Hated it? Loved it? Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated! It's all needed to help me improve, and by far at this point...*glances briefing at fanfic posted* I will need ALL the help I can get!

Hopefully, next chapter won't be too long from now. The weeks before Christmas break are INSANE, but I'll have plenty of time to write during the break, so next the chappie might come at some point 'round then.

Until next time, YerAWizardMiss is out, DEUCES!


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